All the desert has to offer

We left the serenity of San Clemente and plowed right into the gaudy chaos of Las Vegas.

The best thing about Las Vegas was that The Hard Rock Hotel upgraded us to a suite. Indeed. The moment I stepped into the leather-walled, red velvet-curtained room I knew that the Hard Rock saw what was budding inside me all along - a badass mother-f*%@ker. When I strutted past the floor-to-ceiling decaled mirrors it might as well have been Slash looking back at me, which, considering the uncleanliness and length of my hair, is not actually that shocking.

Not to sound old, but Las Vegas was a little too much for me to handle. We ate, we walked, we milled around the slots trying to score free booze from scantily clad waitresses (did not pan out) and then passed out happily in our NYC apartment-sized bed.

Upon daybreak and with a taste for anthropological sightseeing R & I headed to Fremont Street, or the old Las Vegas strip. This was the underbelly, the grit and the original Vegas, but after parking in the new multi-level lot and walking under a mile-long canopy meant to block the glaring Nevada Sun we found that the Fremont Street of yesteryear was no longer. Nope. It has more than one Starbucks - need I say more?

Off to Zion we said - free of the lights and crowds we faced the loss of an hour as we head East with big hopes and slightly sleepy eyes. And Zion was BEE. U. TIF. FUL. The Tetons were incredible and majestic, but Zion is like nothing I've ever seen. A blue blue sky set against these red rocks that roll for miles. We walked the narrows, which is the best hike ever as it winds and bends with the canyons through a river of crystal clear water. We made it back to our camp sight just before sunset and prepared ourselves for a night of camping bliss. As we were still out of tent poles we had to purchase a new tent back in San Clemente and what we found was the Rolls Royce of tents: sleeps four, shoe door to keep away the wet stuff, rain net, and inside pockets for the odds and ends. We could nearly stand in it!

And then mother nature stepped in. Just after midnight this wind storm blew threw and took our fortress of water-resistant tarp with it. We rocked and rolled with these gail-force gusts and were kept up all the live long night contemplating when this weirdness might end. It didn't. We're pooped.

But no time to dwell! With 16 ounces of coffee in our systems we crossed over 500 miles south to Santa Fe where we will spend one splendid night with a former Kenyonite. She's promising 'the best margaritas' ever. Swoon.

To end: other people enjoying The Narrows at Zion